
Class J15^S:M^ 
Book , (S/74^F3 
Copyright l^"__ni4K_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



/ 



PASSING CHIMES 




^^ ^J^aJO^ M^-2.z.^^ 




PASSING CHIMES 



BY 

MRS. ELIZABETH MORRIS 



■^ 



CHICAGO 

R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS CO. 

1905 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
TwoCoDies Received 

FEB 12 1906 

_ Copy right Entry 
CLASS CL XXc, No. 

J i. 3 3 ^Q 

' COPY B. ' 



-fS 



$2- 



r 



0-1 4-^ X^ 



Copyright, igoS 
Mrs. Elizabeth Morris 



DEDICATED 

TO 

LITTLE MERRITT AND IDA MORRIS 



Four brief years did winsome Merritt 

Play amid the garden flowers, 
Four brief years with childish laughter. 

Sweeter jnade the passing hours. 

Then the little feet grew weary, 
And the hands were tired at play, 

And the guardian angel whispered, 
Rest until another day. 

Then he ceased his 7nerry prattle, 

Quiet grew the little head, 
Waxen hands were meekly folded, 

And they cried, *'Our child is dead!'' 

Dead! oh no, he is but sleeping. 

By his side sweet Ida's form 
Soon was laid in pleasant Woodland, 

There to sleep through stin and storm. 

Hope and trust— glad hearts may find them 

Playing on the hills of light, 
When the morning sunlight brightens 

All the dewfalls of the 7iight. 



Contentsi 



MISCELLANEOUS 

PAGE 

Time - - - - - - - ii 

Asleep and Dreaming - - - - - i5 

A Song of Day ---.-- i8 

The Dancing Girl - - - - - - 19 

Innocence ...... 20 

To My Spirit Guide - - - - - 22 

Memory Bells ----.. 23 

Found - - - ..... 26 

Evening ....... 28 

DEDICATORY 

Friendship ...... 29 

Desire - - - - - - - 30 

MISCELLANEOUS AND CHILDREN'S POEMS 

Winter Sport ...... 31 

Lilies - - - - - - - 32 

A Thought on the Rose - - - - - 34 

Violets ------- 35 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Hour of Mystery - - - - 36 

The Indian Chief - - - - - - 37 

Rest ------- 39 

To A Little Leaf and Rose - - - - 40 

May-Day ------- 41 

Winter - - - - - - - 42 

To Learn to Know ----- 43 

Shadows of Life - - - - - - 45 

Our Country's Flag ----- 49 

A Spring Carol - - - - - -50 

When Spring Awakes - ... 51 

Evening Bells - - - - - - 52 

To the Brook ------ 53 

A Winter Song - - - - - - 54 

To A Sea-Shell - - - - - 55 

The Sculptor - - - - - - 56 

May-Time ....--- 57 

To the Moon - - - - - -58 

The Fair Youth ... - - 59 

To THE Day ... - - - - 63 

My Dream ...... 64 

A Child's Wish - - - - - - 65 

To THE Dandelion ..... 66 

The Winds at Play - - - - - 68 

The Mill ...... 69 

To A Butterfly - - - - - -70 

To the Winds ...... ji 

A Bit of Nature - - - - - - 72 

Dreaming of an Evening - - - - 73 

8 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Mountain Spring - - - - - 74 

An Evening in May ..... 75 

Fading Days of Autumn - - . . - 76 

When Spring Comes - - - . - tj 

Mistakes - - - - . - - 78 

The Butterfly ...... 7^ 

Spring-Time - - . . - . - 80 

The Golden Path ..... gi 

The Coming Shower - - - . - 83 

Spectres of the Past .... 85 

The Vale of Death - - - . - 89 

Little Things Make the Whole - - - 90 

The Magic Flute - - - . - - 94 

Retrospection ------ 96 



C(me 

Hand in hand with the march of time, unresisting 
Or resisting, as we may, 'tis all the same, 

The scepter in his hand, Time sways, 
As tho' of all the land he was the ruler gay. 

Anon says he. Go you must with me. 
E'en at night, when heavy lids in anguish close. 
Sometimes with loved ones near, to soothe the 
dying hour 

Of mortal, close the eyes. 

Then time is at an end, at least for one poor soul. 

For in eternity there is no time, just space, 

And rest, not only for awhile, but alway. 

Time yields his scythe, although heavy, ne'er lays 

it down. 

Stern his duty, irresistible the spell that drives 

him on. 

II 



^a^^ing Cftimeief 



Though fain to rest, 'tis much to do, 

And no setting sun red in the west, a warning gives 

'Tis time to rest for all mankind. 

And when the sun is sinking fast among its fleecy 

nest of clouds 
A smile seems o'er Nature spread, 
The Winds their lullaby suddenly cease, 
The swaying trees stand still, and watch their 

shadows in the brook. 
Whose mirrored whiteness shows a dull blot 
From the sullen shadows of the quiet leaves, 
And flowers their heads hang silently, 
A slumbrous look within their eyes. 

Not so with Time, relentless, stern. 

With ne'er a smile than to bestow upon the many 

objects in his course. 
And e'en the Summer balmy breeze, or Winter's 

icy chill, 
To him 'tis all the "same, he gathers force, 



€xme 13 



Be it days or years, that in succession 
Bright or dark may be, goes on. 

Nor does he stop to quench the agony of sick or 

. dying, 
By giving just a little while respite, recruited energy 

to grasp. 
His travels wide, and ways both dark and bright. 
No heart, no sympathy, divine pity knows he not. 
Not until the millennium comes, deciding fate of 

one and all 
Will he then, too, in judgment stand, 
And at the heralding command of trumpets loud 
With trembling look 'round at the few sad hearts 

he healed. 
But many more that passed death's portal; 
Had he stopped and lingered, the angel Death with 

mantling wings 
Perhaps would not have stopped so oft if he had 

barred the door 



14 ^a^^inq €t^imt0 

And with the portals locked, had there slept 

awhile. 
O well 'tis all the same, whether we the longer 

linger 
In mundane spheres, or to a higher realm soar, 
Time has given limit, and surely knowest 

best 
When to let loose his hold, into eternity slip a soul, 
The mission given and fulfilled, the soul finds repose 
Wearing a celestial garb, that fittest best to angel 

forms 
And grows not old, as to this tenement of clay 

We adorn with fitting garb, yet find no rest, 
'Twas fit then ere we enter the heavenly home 

A purer, whiter robe to don. 
And with the sins so scarlet, oft committed. 
Lay away the earthly garb 
As to the dust all that is earthly is consigned. 



asleep anti J^reamfng 

'Twas yesterday that I crossed the border-line 

Where the daffodil and daisy 

Grow straight in a row, and them I watered, 
And as each leaf, with glistening water fed 
Held up high its head, seem'd to thank me, 
With a grateful nodding of their heads 
Seem'd modest in their request for more, 
Yester-day I picked my favorite flower, the lily-bud 

From among the many star-shaped virgins, 

Did my garden fill. 

And the snow-balls so white and airy 
Bobbing in the breeze like fairies. 
Ah, can I e'er forget my thoughts sublime, 
As the sunbeams, straggling through the snow-ball 
bushes. 
Seemed to kiss them, one and all. 
15 



1 6 ^a^^xriQ €f)ime^ 

'Twas yesterday I culled the violets sweet, 

Lovingly I handled them, 
Yet did break their tiny stems so fragile, 
Weighted with a fragrance, deep and lasting, 
And the roses, climbing on the trellis high. 

In that old-fashioned style, 

Ah, was it yesterday my arms were laden 

With their blossoms weighted with incense rare. 

And as the honeysuckle I tried to reach 

A bee came buzzing out of its dark masses. 

Took me the most by fright or it, I scarce can 

tell; 
And of the tiny drops of blood-hued bloom 
Called spectabilis, seem'd for hours I gathered. 
Took so many for to make a showing; 
Of ferns so feathery, I had gathered but a 

few. 



^iBfleep anti ©reaming 17 



'Mid the purple asters, a mixture for to make 
This kaleidoscope of colors more complete, 
Yesterday I said, I sauntered in my garden 

Admired the colors, 
The rain-bow hued colors of the many flowers 

there. 

The mists are gathering, and the clouds are lowering 
As suddenly I start upright, and look around at 

the gathering twilight ; 
In the net-work of my brain asleep 
Fancies had suddenly arisen, and phantom-like had 

taken form. 
And in my treasured garden, me thought 
I surely had been straying. 

And dazed am I to find, many a year has lapsed 
Since the faithful picture just portrayed had really 

happened 
In that realm of long ago. 



a ^ong of HBav 

O Day with thy golden light awhile yet linger, 

Thou hast no foe to fear; 

For night but covers thee, 

Covers thee with a dark mantle for thy sleep. 

Stay, stay then awhile, O golden day. 

Slip, O slip not so fast away; 

Thy guardian light, throw yet awhile, 

Thy beams of golden hue let spread ; 

And over all the bright earth shed fair rays. 

Fair rays of daylight, not yet spent. 

Stay, stay, fair day, for while thy reign, 

Thy reign is over land and sea; 

Then hope is at its brightest. 

Its brightest, gay and lightest ; 

Stay, stay then flit not so fast away. 



Cl^e ©anctng (3ivl 

As she lightly trips to the tune of a lyre, 

Swifter and swifter she goes, ever round and round 

in a circle, 
Like a spider net-work doth weave, 
With her fingers the lyre lightly touches. 

With her feet an unison beat, 
As she gracefully whirls round and round, 
No other sound but the tap, tap, lightly given. 
As poised on high on each toe, non again bending 

low. 
Swaying here, swaying there, lightsome and gay. 
The noonday slips swiftly away. 
As the lyre fondly she plays, 
Heeding not the time of day, 
Dances she with bent figure alway. 



Slnnocence 



Watch the tiny rosebud, its petals scarce are seen, 
Unfurls to the light, in modest array; 
Lifts its head as tho' 'twere coy, 
And wished unnoticed to be. 

Near by grow its taller sisters, 

Far more regal, not so shy ; 

To be noticed fain would be, by the passer-by. 

O'er the modest rose-bud gentle zephyrs sweep, 

Tenderly drops the dew beneath, 

In the heart of tiny rose-bud is a depth ; 

Ne'er could fathom haughty sister-bud. 

For behold the modest droop of rosebud sweet. 

Would not allow one little peep, into that tiny soul 

Where purity so shyly covered sleeps; 

And scarcely oped it to the morning sun, 

To its larger sisters far more welcome. 

20 



S^nnocence 2 1 



And it so lonely, and yet not alone, pines 
Because its sister-roses, more mature and regal. 
Deigns not to stoop and fondle, 
Our rose-bud stirring, not yet opened to the 

day, 
With meekness, lifts its head aloft, not seeking 

glory. 

But with pride's high sublimity. 

Seeking to know, and see, and be, 

Vainly ponders why not I, more useful to the world. 

Not proud, as is the stately lily, but lowly, meek, 

and unobtrusive. 
Wishing to be noticed, yet afraid. 
Unfolding like childhood's first peep, into earth's 

mysteries. 

Unlike the rose, mature in solemn glory. 
And never to reign supreme, like sister roses 
Far above the realm of earth's sweet fragrance 



2 2 ^a^^ing Cfjime^ 

Have I yet to give, perhaps into life 
Not yet like mine, in future, though, to be trans- 
ferred to regal heights, 
Undreamed of, and still to be. 



Co jmr Spirit dPutde 

Vex me not, O spirit, let my disappointments fall 

gently like rain-bow showers. 
Give to me, O spirit, heart so contrite. 
That to know and feel thy presence 
Is like light sent to me from heaven; 
To thy guidance let me look, feel safe and sure 
That my footsteps thou wouldst guide aright ; 
Tenderly lead me by the hand, to a safe retreat. 



jHemort TBelliS 

Watching by the ocean side the billowy waves 
Piling high, like snow-flecked foam, 

Soft the water, endless seems the deep ; 
So are my thoughts, deep in memory's cell a gath- 
ering 
The thoughts almost forgot, that now come dancing 
forth, 
Just like a broken cord upon the harp 
Which striving to bring to memory once again 
Some tender refrain of long ago, almost forgot, 

At last comes feebly to the touch, 
As memory reigns supreme, once more brings back 

those cords 
Upon my heart had touched most tenderly, in 
bygone years, 
The billows washing at my feet. 

23 



24 ^a^^ms €t)ime^ 



A heart-throb brings, not unmixed with pain, 
And memory's thoughts, are of that time when 

same as now. 
The billowy waves were sounding in my ears; 
Perhaps 'tis sometimes, but the faint perfume 
Of some favorite flower, the same pain awake ; 
For 'mid the circumstance of days gone by, 
disappointment brought, 
E'en then the carol of the lark, 
That in my pathway stops a moment 
Its tiny throat so full of trills 
That brings to life, a far off scene. 
In other lands where flowers sweetest bloom, 
And birds the air with warbling fill, 
'Tis a tender scene in which my memory lurks 
As the enchanting vision before my eye is 

thrust. 
O memory bells, sometimes full of a happy refrain. 

Sometimes full of an echoing pain 
Of that dim past, so sweet now to recall. 



iW^emorp 2BeII^ 25 



Sometimes clanging loudly on the ear, sweet 
memory bells, 
Anon, then soft and low, 
Tis like a living altho' pulseless thing, 
Thou thus the heart makes tender, sometimes sad. 

Yet e'en within the memory bells of time 
Sometimes lapses many an hour, 

For rest is all that sets free the heart 

To live again in hope awhile; 

Memory bells, sweet clanging ever on the air, 
Never silent in repose 

As long as life lasts, making thy music heard. 



iJfounti 

I walked through a palace richly adorned, 

Taste and elegance on every side shown- 
Music and plenty rich wines, 

And a score of the best vassels, that money could 
hire; 
At the beck and the call, 

The guests had plenty of all that was rare, 

And no palate unsatisfied leave could take there; 

Fair faces and forms, a delight to behold, 

Yet on no face could I see written peace and 
content; 
'Twas not there. 

I w^ent to the ball-room, brilliant with lights, en- 
trancing light feet. 

Fantastic shapes were dancing; 

Sweet scented flowers perfumed the air, 

No peace or content on a face written there. 

26 



jFounti 27 



I went to the garden, all nature was there, full of 

sunshine; 
The flowers so rare were nodding and playing, 
Touched gently by breezes that, sweetly caressing, 
Just sprinkled the dew to the ground. 
In the air no sound but sweet melody, from a 

songster near by; 
Here, here at last was content that I found, in 

nature passing fair; 
And a look all around brought a sense refreshing; 
And calm deep admiration filled my soul. 



Cfaening 

The dew is falling on the buttercup, 

Their little heads are bobbing in the breeze; 

The cattle homeward bound, 
All Nature quiet, not a sound 
But gentle whisperings from the breeze, 
Purling noise from a brook in the field ; 
Where tiny wrens are hopping to and fro 

And seem to never tire. 

Sleep, sleep, the flowers say. 
Sleep, sleep, sing the birds overhead; 
Sleep, sleep, whispers the gentle leaf, 
'Tis time to sleep, 'tis time to sleep. 



28 



ftimh^l^ip 



I 

DEDICATED TO A FRIEND, NEW-YEAR, 1905 

When friendship's claim lays its warm hands upon 
the heart, 'tis clear 

That its warm beams it sheds upon the spot where 
the emotions play; 

And stirring, leads us to a heart as kindred, 

Clings and fastens, like a vine, its weak tendrils 
twine 

Upon the oak, and fastens, like its help would 
thus implore; 

Like our little feeble hearts, with all its loves, 

With longing fastens on its object, holds and ten- 
derly clings 

Dependent for the warmth it needs. 

Nor age nor death its meaning knows, 

29 



30 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ 

Through all eternity, the soul meets soul, and O 

dear heart ; 
The warm heart-blood that flows, with life forever 

grows 
Into a lasting love, cemented in our home above. 

ON THE OCCASION OF A FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY 

Hast thou, O soul, desire so great, 

That seeming would let all else go; the nonce 

awhile pleasure seek, 
Know'st not that pleasure sought, were all in vain, 
For duty bound, no other way is happiness; 

For looking forward to the day 
On duty bent, not meaning to neglect; 
But careful, on other hearts dwelling. 
And happiness in boundless ways bestowing. 
Peace then a priceless boon would come to thee 
While others seek the pearl, would be thine own to 

have and hold. 



mintn ^pott 

The merry school-boys, sled in hand, 
Think the sport of coasting grand ; 
The cold and bitter wind, the faces bite, 
But in their play they do not mind. 
Gay youngsters, they intent on fun, 
At Jack Frost's bite the harder run; 
As he their ears make tingle, 
On the cold air the sleigh-bells jingle. 

What a lot of fun to watch Jack Frost, 
As he helps the wind their caps to toss; 
He loves the sport as well as the boys. 
Heigh-ho, 'tis fine to greet the Winter Kins 



31 



Pure and fair, O lilies white, with the stately nod, 
As zephyrs mild play 'round your shrine; 
Tell me what in those petals sweet, your secret 
That you have kept so deep. 

Is it the perfume thou wouldst keep. 

As the butterfly hovering near, your company long 

to be? 
And stately in your courtesy, no living thing want 

near; 
Is it perhaps the birds on high, 
For which thou whispers, as the winds go by. 
Methinks it is the blue, blue sky, 
That thou dost lift thy head so high; 
And perfume scatters, near and wide. 
The dew that glistens on thy leaves. 
Is not more welcome than to thee; 

32 



^iiie^ 33 

Than the fair sky, that on thee smiles, 
And with its warmth, which, borrowed from the sun, 
Thou surely knoweth, that life to thee is given. 
And warmth from heaven. 

And as the sun so daily shines. 
And with its beams brings out thy growth ; 
Thou surely art more grateful seeming. 
To that bounteous giver, the sun in heaven, 
To which thy life thou owest, and friend to thee 
has ever been. 



a Cl^ougl^t on tl^e Kosie 

Fragile is the rose, that shaken by the morning wind 
Sends fragrance, sweet as a spring morning, 
Throws an influence to the soul 
Small, unseen, and ofttimes careless, 
Broken from its supporting stem, by ruthless 
hands, 
Yet has not lived in vain, 

But brought a comfort, with its radiant hues 
To many a wearied heart. 
And the sweet incense leaves a trace. 
For memory ne'er could blot it out. 

Is not our lives just like the rose. 

So small a space, an atom in a universe so great, 

Small wonder, then, as we ponder the great problem, 
Life, 

That unmeaning seems, yet our appointed place, 

each have. 

34 



a Wt^ongi^t on tfje iSo^e 35 

A lesson, to our heart is taught, 

For ne'er could one deed blessed but like the 
incense of the flower. 
Memory, could ne'er blot out, 
A lasting impression, leave in its wake. 



Tiny violets, at me are peeping, as I wander 
In the pathway of the garden. 
E'en the winds seem softly whispering. 
To the waiting ears a-listening; 
Of the sweet-faced blossoms. 
Trembling in their narrow beds. 
And wondering a caress receives. 
As its tiny leaves unfurl grateful to the evening 
breeze. 



W)t i$om of ^v&tttt 

Hark to the tones of the midnight bell, 
As it tolls the hour of twelve; 
The hour of mystery and deep repose, 
The hour of Nature's time to sleep. 

A hushed stillness on the air, a brooding of the 

darksome powers; 
A brooding, as when its darkest robes had donned, 
And spreading wide its mantle dark. 
Lends a weird somber aspect 
To the blackness of the night ; 
And with the last stroke of the hour 
Its silvery tones upon the air 
A lingering sound brings forth 
An echo in the far-off distance. 



36 



The warrior bold on his steed rushes, 

To the scene of strife, his Indian fiery nature bold 

asserting ; 
His foam flecked steed he commands as proudly to 

the front he dashes. 

The Indian warrior scents afar the long array 

Of battle soon will come in conflict, 

Discerns his vision keen yet much obscured by the 

mists 
Of lowering clouds soon a fierce storm portends. 

The warrior gayly his fantastic garb secures more 

firmly. 
Proud of his head-dress, the scarlet trimmings of 

his sash ; 

Sees before him foes the many, yet fears he not. 

37 



^a0^xm €\)mt^ 



With trembling lips with fevered brow his warrior 

nature, 
In'stinct with heart on fire feels no defeat; 
Alas the storm that lashed to fury in a moment 

breaks, 
The leaden missiles on their deathly mission 
Ring on the rain-drenched air. 

Dying and wounded from the battle scene are 

carried. 
Gather to the front the line victorious. 
By their Indian chieftain hailed on high proudly 

waves his banner; 
With victorious shouts proclaim the Indian nation 

free again, 
The wide free range of happy hunting-ground their 

own 
Their own again to roam at will. 



mm 

'Tis only a little while, the battle of life to run, 

Then slowly ebbs that life away, 

Like the setting sun; *mid roseate hues, and lines 

of light. 
The hope then dawns upon the dying hour. 
The hope that had through life 
The one fair beam before us set. 

Leading on the way, that last had found an end, 

The passing away of the mortal mind in Christian 
faith ; 

The priceless boon had brought of passing hope- 
fully 

Into the heavenly sphere, to find rest eternally. 



39 



Co tl^e little Leaf anO mm 

Why is it, little leaf and rose, that such delight 

thou takest 
In giving, always giving, of thy incense rare. 
To delight it seems, in bounteous measure; 
Thy gift on those bestow who sometimes linger, 
Sometimes not, to thank thee for thy fragrance 

sweet. 

To thee it seems as tho' alike the pleasure 

Thou would share with stranger and with foe; 

If we could only thus unselfish learn to be, 

And unto others give of charity; 

Smiles would come to us, the easier. 

If to dispense them, not to be so chary. 

To give, and give alike to friend or foe. 

Thus, thus our great Creator taught; 

To love our fellowman; and brother be 

To one and all alike. 

40 



Joyous May-day is come, 
The ribbons of the May-pole 
To the winds we fling; 
As we cheerfully sing 
And laugh in our play, 
Happy that May-day is here. 

The birds twitter cheerily, 
The flowers nod gayly, ' 
On the air clear we sound 
Our gay jubilee chorus; 
May-day is come we sing, 
Our hands clasped in a ring 
'Round, 'round the May-pole we go, 
Happy are we, for ''May-day is here. 



41 



mintn 

The snow is falling silently, 

The sky with heavy clouds are marked 

And streaked with somber gray ; 

The landscape far and wide is hid, 

And covered with a whiteness that enfolds; 

Just like a curtain all around. 

The pigeons circling high, seem to try. 

In circles make their flight; 

And the chirping from the snowbirds on the hunt, 

For the kernel in the ground ; 

And the bluebells covered o'er with snow. 

Rests so quiet, until spring its covering lifts; 

Gladsome time when spring is here. 



42 



Co learn to Iftnoto 

As the stars their glory shed at even-tide, 
So life's small missions add in size; 
Until a glorious constellation make, 
Shedding its beams far and wide. 

The little duties gracefully done. 
The smile that from the heart is meant; 
These are in full reward repaid ; 
And glorious the radiance that falls 

On all that stands within its reach, 
No hunting for glory, happiness brings, 
Nor yet the triumphs, fame has brought, 
Our meek and lowly Saviour, this has taught, 
To feed the hungry, cheer the heart 
Of the widow, to her little add a mite; 
A treasure to thy heart will bring, that of content. 

43 



44 ^a^^ing Cfjimeitf 

Why wander aimlessly seeking fame or wealth? 
The bubble breaks, all is for naught, 
Counts most the smile, the cheery word ; 
From thy bounty, the needy poor relieve, 
These will count the most. 

When the book of life is closed, 

Happiness thine will be forever more; 

Fame had not brought, nor gold 

With all its glittering shine useless than to prize, 

With longing, while the hours away, 

That precious in the end must be. 



^]^at)ot»!8 of Iffe 

Throbbing humanity opens its eyes 

Each morning a new day to begin, 

Some with hopes and aspirations they would fill, 

Non again hearts crushed with sorrow 

Ne'er would rise again, such of Nature they 

would ask 
For the sun's bright rays as morning dawns. 
Brings no relief to their sad hearts. 
Pulsing humanity, as from your couch you rise 
As one in weariness of soul, 
Some with young hearts made bold. 
See the roseate hues of life, through colored 

glasses 
Which with the morning sun, they don. 
Its hue a brilliant color lends to all around. 
Was it not the babe in swaddling-clothes 
That with its first step, learned to know 



45 



46 ^a^^ttig €{)ime^ 

Reliance on oneself, in time, must know and rec- 
ognize 
And with its first step discouragement to feel? 
But like Nature, to rise, again the steeps to climb. 
Learn the way, that to some certain goal does reach. 
And was it not the infant, too, 
When first it learned life's lesson of woe; 
When its tiny toy, the first one, fell, 
And broken at its feet, brought tears gushing, 
And such an heartache, that with its limited com- 
prehension 

Yet clung, and when effaced, but brought another 

grief. 
When with its playmates, sister, friend, or brother, 
It had learned to love, to find 
That griefs, from quarrels many, 
Had left a sting, and small remembrance. 
That e'en the heart ne'er could feel the same again, 
And then when life, the broader in its scope, 



J^fiaDoto^ of %ift 47 

Loomed up, and just beyond our reach 

Ambition, our breast and mind, seem'd full, 

Then, then the keenest pang of all was ours 

To cope with and endure, 

Ambitions many unfulfilled, hopes drawn on, fallen 

to decay. 
Just like the tenement we call the body. 
Slowly feels the hand of time. 
The sands of life ebb low. 

As the glasses, from constant friction, and long use. 
Dim and smoked grow, tho' we polish and we 

burnish 
Ne'er the same clearness will present. 
Hopeless grows the vain wish that a better fit 
Perhaps we could have had. 
Experience taught, then long ago, the waste of 

time, 
'Twere indeed, to backward trace the steps and 

turn the dials back. 
For the pathway would be just as thorny, 



48 ^aiBf^ing €l)ime^ 

And the disappointments just as keen, 
Our lot same as others, of sunshine have a gleam, 
Which would we catch, must watch the beam, 
Not let it pass, and forget the shadow where it lay 

a part. 
The beams where the sunlight falls, stand and bask 

in its full rays, its warmth infuse 
The strength it gives our hearts will fortify 
The shadows fall so lightly we scarce would notice 
As it fell before our path. 



flDur Countrt'js if lag 

The stars and stripes, the nation's pride, 

We proudly raise on high, in the floating wind 

Its colors bright let shine, the stars so pure and 

white 
Of our fair states, each one a meaning clear does 

give, 
Each for a state stands stanch. 

And as in unity there is strength, 

So our noble flag, for which so many fought and 

bled, 
We hail then with delight; 
Fair flag, the fairest of the land, we proudly hold 

aloft. 
In reverence to each star, a meaning then to 

give; 

49 



50 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ 

We hail and welcome every state, that to this union 

fair belong. 
We raise thee proudly, fairest flag, all homage due 
We give to thee welcome flag of glorious hue, 
The fairest ever sun shone on, 

By thee we'll always stand. Liberty, sweet Liberty, 
Without stain has bought for us. 



a Opting Carol 

The song-birds are mating as they sing, 

For very joy their throats do swell, 

Loud on the evening air, sound sweet but shrill 

As if they knew the gladsome time 

In all the year 

Had come at last. 



Mi^m Opting, atoafeesi 

The fairy rivulet from its icy bounds will burst, 

And merrily sing as its course is run ; 

The flowers sleeping at its side 

Their tiny stems will shoot toward the light ; 

And the crocus and blue-bell nowhere seen, 

Will spring up like charmed things. 

Homeward bound the kine with tinkling bells their 

heads 
Will stoop to lower at the brook to quench their 

thirst. 
The birds that for awhile have flown away; 
The uprising spring each day will bring them nearer, 
And truly Nature has endowed and given name 
To all that once seem'd dead, with Spring will rise 

again. 



Evening bells, evening bells, 

On the air they sweetly ring, 

Calling one and all to worship 

God the Giver, in his mercy, 

Health and wealth and pleasure giveth 

To the many all alike. 

Let us worship as we listen 

To the sweet chimes now a calling. 

And our thankful hearts lift up 

Praise the One above, 

The God that made the universe. 

Sweet bells, sweet bells. 

Ring on, ring on, 

Your chimes so sweet, a message brings. 

The hour of prayer is here, it rings. 



■52 



Co tl^e TBroofe 

Tell me, fairy rivulet, as on thy banks 

The wild flowers freely grow, 

Why always in a hurry, with thy restless shining 

light? 
So clear by day, so clear by night. 
Where is thy destination, pray? 
Hurrying, never creeping, wend thy way. 
What more of nature can thou ask. 
Of woods the greenest, 'round thee flourish 
Moss and fern ever beside thee, keep a vigil, 
But thou, O wandering brook, goes ever on. 
Nor to the right nor the left doth turn, 
As on thy mind it seems, 
A mission had. And in haste was sent, 
Is it to linger, find a place more restful, 
If thou ever can find that place, 
Or is it nature, that wandering 

53 



54 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ 

In thy breast is ever dominant, 

Green woods nor singing birds does satisfy, 

But ever hurrying, intent on reaching some other 

spot. 
To rest there just awhile. 



a minttv ^ong 

Winter is here, winter is here, 

With its flakes of snow drifting high; 

A white mantle below, 

A gray curtain above; 
The birds that made summer harmonious 
Have flown to a clime more congenial; 

Where summer winds blow • 

And fair flowers grrow. 



Co a ^ea^^^ell 

O tell me, shell, of amber hue, 

As you lie in the sea so blue, 

Do you ever think of what day tints are? 

In your imprisoned tomb. 

Where no one seems to feel or know. 

Do you, I say, then sometimes wish 

The upper regions to explore? 

Few I know leave this tomb. 

When one, more valiant than the rest. 

Creeps loose, and thrown upon the shore. 

Beaten by storm and wind alike. 

Not knowing of the weary thoughts. 

And longings to be free again, within the bosom 

Of its old friend the ocean. 

As the stranger, passing by, careless looks 
And finds for it a home upon a shelf, 
Perhaps soon thrown aside, its faded beauty 
Finds rest then, for just a little while. 

55 



%])t Sculptor 

Firm in hand, the sculptor holds his chisel, 
As he bends and molds into shapes so various; 
His artist eye discerns with finished nicety, 
He learns and fingers softly each piece shallow, 
As into features measures hollows. 
Eyes too expressive, pains he takes. 

'Round the head a hallowed glory, seems to shed. 

As an angel face, in short, appears 

And not in vain, the artist sense of beauty rare. 

As figure tall, with grace adjusts 

Its lines symmetrical, are given. 

And awe seems written on the face. 

Reverently the artist toils, 

Ambitious fire in his hand and brain alike, 

As finished, lays the sculptor down, his chisel. 

Feels his life work, absorbing and inspired. 

56 



Sweet the evening calm, when o'er the hill 
The sun sinks softly to its nest amid the clouds, 
And gentle zephyrs waft a message from the flowers 
Nod and smile, and gently toss their heads in play, 
The cawing of the blue-jay seems to say. 
Welcome evening breeze of May, 
Tiny blue-bells in their beds a-sleeping; 
Gently flows the spring, 

As on its banks modest grows the sweet- 
faced daisy. 
Seem a quiet joy to add 
To the fair vision May has brought, 
Leaves in its wake a soften'd air, 
And blue skies, ne'er so fair 
As when the eve of May is here. 



57 



O moon, so white and bland, tell me neath that 

smile, 
What hidden thoughts that mask does hide; 
If inspiration thou hast given ; why not to me, 
A cunning caprice lurking, beams from thy eye, 
Has dispelled a curious meaning, left to guess to 

mortal; 
Flickering thoughts, too, on thy marble face is 

written. 
Showing signs that tho' a riddle thou dost know, 
Yet to thee, I fain would cry, O moon. 
To uplift my nature high, so could I courage take 
From sordid earthly cares, tear off the mask 
When fell on me a task unbidden; 
Calmly smile and solve the riddle. 



58 



A boy sat underneath a tree of cedar so 

Full of thought, 
A bee went past merrily singing; 
The budding flowers brightly nodded, 
Touched by the gentle breath of spring. 
The zephyrs swayed the trees, murmuring overhead 

Yet heard he not ; 
What scepter dreamed he of that 
Would upon his brow so fitly rest; 
Perhaps 'twas of some maiden fair, 
Whose fond resistance threw a spell. 

Ne'er could he solve. 

Perhaps some sailor's life he fancied, 
Thus sat and pictured, with youth's ardor, 

Life upon the ocean; 
And fain would stand in the line of battle, 

'Mid conquering heroes bold. 
59 



6o ^a^^ing €l)ime^ 

Know'st not, fair youth, that 

In the ardor of days, now on you, 

That dreams indeed are very well. 

And with youth's blood throw a spell, 

That wiser, older you become, see the folly of. 

What, then, if fame did come to thee. 
And Commander in large letters you did wear. 
Dost think thy heart would be appeased, 
And longing from thy heart erase. 

Dost think, when on the rolling billows 

Thy gallant ship goes skimming 

That ne'er a wish ungratified would be fulfilled? 

Perhaps thy heart made sore by some fair maiden 

Thou didst woo, and disappointment felt, 

Think you, that others of the same cup had quaffed, 

And not been disappointed. 

Erase then from thy mind, fair youth. 



Ctje fair gout^ 6i 

The thought that fills thy mind, 
That fame, and fleeting love, to happiness lead ; 
'Tis but a myth. 

God has a mission given thee, if but fulfilled 

Will happiness bring, perhaps, too, earthly peace, 

But ah, the perfect peace, the joy thou seeketh. 

Not at thy door will knock, to stay; 

For like the dream thou art dreaming. 

That linger in the mind, then flit away 

Like the butterfly on the wing. 

Repine not then, for youth goes skipping by. 

Hold fast what now is thine; 

For with age creeping on, sorrows thy cup will fill; 

Nor can thou then avert, or turn aside. 

The most then of thy youth, yet make. 

And smiles, becoming to that fair face and brow 

Let linger often, and for the nonce, 

The darkening sunlight drive away. 



62 ^a^^ing €t)tme^ 

For the clouds will heavier grow, 

That in the distance now are but a speck, 

And fleecy white the blue vault of the heaven skim 

Come then with me, 
In the silvery brook, thy face mirrowed will see, 
How brightly fair, 'tis thus to look upon 
Its smiling waters, by gentle ripples kissed. 
Will to thy life, a meaning give. 

And thou, so fair and young. 
Will learn the truth, why nature green 
Smiles so benignly, while the season lasts. 

For winter blasts will come. 

Time the destroyer, will bring the clouds 

That though they overhead, bleak and wild, the 

sunshine hide. 
Spring will bring again, and life go on as merrily 
As tho' no cloud had lingered black and forbidding 
The golden gleams to hide. 



Co ti)t ^av 

O day, with thy golden light awhile yet linger, 
O day, thy beauties the night will soon hide; 
And cover with a dark mantle for awhile, 
Already in the distance can I see 
The faint streak of dark-eyed tint. 
That heralds coming of the eve. 

The sun's golden orb is dipping, 

And the dark cloud but a moment was appearing 

Then disappearing left no trace. 

And now, dear light of day, must say good by, 

Thy friend the sun has left thee 

To return again the morn to bring its light. 



63 



^^ ©ream 

Ecstasy was mine, as in a dream 

I sought and found my long lost child. 

Serene and calm the eyes that in mine gazed, 

As though no parting had been ours, 

Only transitory time had passed, and filled the 

space, 
So warm the clasp like human warmth. 

Pure and holy love my blood suffused, 

Such as I never felt in waking hours; 

O bright and transitory sleep, that brought such 

angel visitants, 
Why, why, O bitter waking come so soon, 
The bliss so short, dispelled with the roseate hues; 

The morning light. 
Made my bitter woe transparent more, 
With the full light, the meaning 'twas but a dream 
That left a harrowing in its track. 

64 



At heaven's gate will they let me in, 
And as I pass a garden, pick my fill ; 

Of all there is of flowers? 
The speckled bright hued pansy, and black-eyed 
daisy, 

Can^ I gather these? 
And others too, like those I've seen. 
As oft I've passed the keeper's door. 

And on a shelf all in a row, 

Those flowers were standing wafting perfume; 

As I passing, longed to enter in. 

And for the asking 
A nose-gay home to carry. 



65 



Co ti^e j^antielion 

O dandelion of the golden frame, 

Without incense, without fame, growing here and 

everywhere ; 
And no place can I look but see the little tufts of 

hair 
By the side of other flowers, but not despised. 
Thou growest by the side of the purling brook. 

Its waters into you look, shaken by the breeze. 
As the sun each day has kissed thee, 
As through the leaves its golden light it sheds. 
By thy side companions many the time beguile. 

There, too, upon the hillside green, thou growest, 

The sparkling dew each day receives; 

The lonely traveler sits and rests, 

And notice thy golden eyes shine forth, 

66 



€o tl)e SDantieliDn 67 



And sees the panorama spread so far and wide. 
The butterfly, altho' no taste he sips, each day yet 

lingers, 
For thy color shines so golden bright, his fancy 

takes 
The little birds hopping 'round 
Do not neglect to glance at thee. 
The little child that plucks thy flower. 
The little hands press fondly. 
No, no, dear flower of yellow hue, 
Need not hide thy head, not you ; 
Thou hast a mission yet to learn. 
Sweet humility, thy lot to be. 
Each, every one, has thus a place to fill. 



€]^e aa(nti0 at i^iat 

The winds at eventide stir forth, their time to play 
A gentle noise, and on they rush, on mischief bent 
They shake the trees, and twist the little stems 
Of buds just shooting forth; 
The tiny rivulet too they touch 
Until a ripple they have stirred. 
Then forward on their march the trees they strike, 
And merry laugh when leaves go whirling madly by ; 
And even the song-birds restless make. 
As flitting bough to bough, 
The wind, does shake so vigorous. 
They tumble in their play. 

The flowers that grow so tall do not escape. 
For the wild gambols of the winds at play 
Delight to shake and tease; 
68 



€l)e l©inti^ at ^lap 69 

And not until the sun looks angry red, 

Before it settles to its rest, 

Does the wild air currents cease to play, 

Then sigh as they too rest, to play another day. 



Ci^e Mill 

The mill goes 'round and 'round, Whir, whir, don't 

you hear the sound; 
The Miller, white like King Frost's robe, 
Is ready now, the grain to grind ; 
To make the flour, fine and white. 
Hear, hear the clattering sound, 
Whir, whir, the wheel goes 'round: 
And never stops till tired out. 



Co tl^e I3utterfli? 

What art thou, menial thing of the dust, 
Come now out of thy chrysaHs state; 
And now a thing of beauteous color, 
Fashioned into shape so fragile. 
Thy wings take rapid flight, and soar so high ; 
What mission bent art thou? 
Was it thy maker that to thee gave a gift, 
That thus the sending so rare; 
A messenger thou art of air. 

Now arrayed in colors so fine; wouldst a new life 
begin. 

Tell me, butterfly sweet, when in thy chryalis state. 

Didst thou ever of the time think 

When from thy mean garb thou wouldst shrink? 

Looking back to the menial thing once you were, 

Arose to this delicate thing of the air; 

70 



€0 tl)e 25utterflp 



With thy wings soaring high, ever did try, 

On the flowers, passing by a caress gave to them ; 

Sweet butterfly, I too would be the flower. 

If content as thou art, near me would linger. 



Co ti^e miring 

O winds, so fickle and precarious, with moods so 

various, 
Why so changeable, as each day cometh and goes; 

Thy mood is never one. 
With gentle hand in spring thou touches the fairy 

blossoms; 
The dew-drops shake and drop gently at their feet, 
In winter ominous shrieks portent of storms, 
When nature dons her garb of white 
And madly whirling snowflakes fill the air; 
Fiercely assails all within thy bound, 



a TSit of 0atuu 

Calmly by the meadow brook stand the cattle 
In a row drinking of the limped waters cool their 

thirst to quench; 
Nature seems so quiet and at rest, 
The cool green sward which scarcely touch 
The sun's bright rays for interlaced the branches 
Deep, seem on high almost to meet; 
And the leaves trembling as the winds soft murmur 
Through them blows, shadows here and there seem 

swaying, 
And lengthening, as the evening shades approach ; 
And the tiny ripples of the brook seem sighing, 
As they gently leap from side to side; 
Contentment shows in all lines which Nature brings. 
Within her time flowers bloom and cries of birds 

far off 
In the distance heard, a fitting calm and quiet over 

all the peaceful realm. 

72 



J^reammg of an Cbenins 

As the quiet shades of evening fall, 
And I at my casement sit alone; 
Covered with the sweet clematis vine, 
The young moon shifts its early beams; 
As o'er my head the golden light 
Sends flickering shadows through the leaves; 
Wafts a sweet incense from the flowers, 
Which whisper and rustle faintly. 

What are my thoughts this calm and beauteous eve? 

Seem undefined, for 'tis a soothing influence I feel, 

As tho' to happiness I was most near; 

A feeling holy seem my thoughts possess. 

And as yon moon so stately and benignly moves 

along, 
So like unto my feelings, majestic, calm, full of 

power ; 

73 



74 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ 

No human but a visionary hand has in me wrought, 
For this sweet hour alone I feel its presence. 
The benign influence the faint moon rays has given, 
E'en to-morrow perhaps a darken'd morrow will 

molest; 
Drive away these fitful visionary dreams that leave 

no trace 
Of the sweet influence of the time and place. 



m)t fountain spring 

The mountain spring as babbling in its course, 

Full many a heart made to rejoice; 

Its limpid waters cool dispense, 

The weary traveler's throat to quench; 

As weary with toil. 
Brought to his soul much joy, 
As cheerfully he pursues his way; 
Grateful to the mountain spring. 



an (Ebening in ifEa^ 

Sweet the evening calm, when o'er the hill 
The sun sinks softly to its nest amid the clouds; 
And brief respite from carking cares, its impress 

leaves behind ; 
The gentle zephyrs waft a message from the 

flowers. 

Nod and smile, and gently toss their heads in play, 
The cawing of the bluejay in its shrill call 
Seems to say, welcome, evening breeze of May, 
And the tiny bluebells in their mossy beds, seen 
sleeping to be. 

The gentle spring as silently it flows 
On its bank, the wild flowers freely grow ; 
Caressed by the soft evening wind, 
- Their fragrance scatter far and wide 
On the sweet May evening air. 

75 



ifaDfne J^atsi of autumn 

Like tiny diamonds glistening, casting a myriad 

sparks, 
The dew sparkling a shimmering whiteness on the 

leaves ; 
Birds on the frosty ground, their energies all bent 
On finding tiny crumbs their hunger to appease. 
A chilly wind vibrating on the early morning air, 
Sounds an herald of the departing sunny days; 
Scarce is felt the sun's pale rays. 
The violets are shivering in their narrow beds. 
The blasted petals of the rose scarce alive. 
Hold up their heads and look so weary; 
Plainly shows it feels the cold that has arrived. 
Desolate looks its garden mates and dreary. 
As the chilly autumn days go on, 
Winds a dying requiem sigh ; leave no cheer around ; 

76 



jFatiing SDapitf of autumn -]! 

Cheerless are the flowers for their perfume is all 

gone, 
The birds that once sang gayly are despond ; 
The sunshiny days of summer made light and warm, 
The buds that blossomed, the balmy winds a delight. 



OHl^en Spring comesi 

The soft whispering leaves. 

That made forest and glade so bewitching. 

Under a white blanket lies buried, 

Covered deep and warm. 

Until spring's gentle hand 

Uncovers all the land. 
The deep silvery pond, roused from her sleep, 

Its icy portals will ope, 
The fair lily will bend, in its deep waters look. 
And the bluejay will herald the coming of spring. 



Why from the grave, O skeleton, stalk forth 

Before my weary eyes, 

To flaunt the memory of the deeds, 

The ashes, long so dead. 

What dreary monotone does sing, 
And to my ears a ring, of by-gone sins, 

no, 'twas deeds not rightly done, 
That to my heart no mirth can bring. 

For wrong not right my conscience wrings. 
And of the past so sorely tried, 

1 try to live, above the ashes of the dead, 
So leave me skeleton so dread. 

And with my conscience sore to wrestle. 
Time shall atone. 



78 



Ci^e 'Bttttetfl^ 

Watch the golden butterfly, 
With rain-bow colored wings; 
From the honeysuckle wild 
Dips, and has its fill 
Of the sweets so heavy 
On the bowers laden. 

Care-free, soars to farthest heights, 
Returns again and takes its flight; 
And its wings, with rain-bow hues. 
Glisten in the sun's warm beams. 

As with airy, fairy motion, 

Bids a welcome to the flowers; 

The flowers, one and all, 

Amid the garden, in its morning call. 



79 



The brook is singing merrily once more. 
The birds up in the treetops seem to know, 
And feel the warm bright sunshine in the air, 
The flowers nod, and to the breeze their incense 
fling. 

And meadows wide, and woods and glade. 

Their winter garments now have shed ; 

With radiant look shine forth, 

In spring's new garb, fresh, clean, and pure. 

The breezes kiss the grasses tall. 

The tiny insects long asleep,. 

Rise up to greet the bright new spring. 

The birds are on the wing. 

Their carols on the air ring. 

All nature merrily sings; 

Spring is come, is come awhile to stay, 

We will right merry be, while it is here. 

80 



Methought as by a stream I sat and mused, 

That on a path of golden light I trod, 

On my way to a far-distant star pointing to another 

path, as golden bright 
As was the one that I had started on, 
When lo, the second path, like the first, 
A hallowed beam threw all around ; 
Nowhere did it reach, and foot-sore could not find 

an end. 

In weariness, I then sat down, and while at 

rest 
An angel (sudden apparition) stood and pointed 
To another star, in the far distance, 
As I looked, and started once again, the spirit 

vanished. 

8i 



82 ^a^^ing Cl)ime^ 

I awoke to mundane thoughts, to find with my 

dream unended 
So had my life nothing accomplished, 
But always wending on my way, that nowhere led 
Expecting sooth, to find blissful joy, and rapture. 



Cl^e coming ^l^otDer 

The lime-trees touched by gentle zephyr hands, 

Throws shadows deep upon the land ; 

The red sun setting in the west, 

Throws an angry light, ere settling to its rest. 

The birds circling upon high, 

Seem trying to reach the far blue sky; 

Afraid seem they, and utter loud and piercing 

shrieks. 
Ominous sound to waiting ears the hawk, who fears, 
And soars mighty wings and flies. 

The humming-bird who fears not friend or foe. 
Intent on sipping sweets made bold ; 
Arises from his pleasant task to light again. 

For more he asks, 
Makes where he can a cozy bower. 

83 



84 ^a^^ing Cl)ime^ 

A pattering sound, and low-by rumble, 

Seem to make the earth quake; 

And tiny feet of wooded insects, seem to stumble, 

In their haste to reach a sheltered place. 

And the moaning winds blow all the harder, 

As raindrops larger grow, and fill the earth with 

water 
Suddenly cease, on every hand no sound is heard 

Except the dying thunder; 
The raindrops melting in the land, few in number, 
Seem seeking rest to find, and a counting of the 

time. 



^pectreji of tt^t pa^t 

When in the town of Edinburg, 

I chanced upon a lonely lane 
That led unto a castle, old and ruined, 
The moss and verdure damp and clinging, 
Twined high upon the tottering walls; 
And the birds, their tiny house-nests built 
Upon the outer edges, where the sun, 

Its beams made warm the spot. 

The robin perched upon the edge, just tottering over. 

His nightly visits made, among the ruins. 

And in melodious accents upon the evening calm, 

Sent messages to his mate. 
And when the moon's full rays of silver, blent 
With the dark shadows of the crumbling wall, 
Spectre forms seem'd stalking about 
And as though uneasy, the shadows sought, 
Until the moon hid, behind a ragged cloud, 

85 



86 ^aie?^ing €l)tme^ 

The murmuring winds softly through the giant elms 

In whispers lingered, 
Their swaying branches, the weird branches seem'd 

to embrace, as I recall 
The days when monarch queens their sceptre swayed 
As ruler of the mighty domain 

That in their province lay. 
Their glory now to dust consigned, no more or less 
Than the ground upon which I trod, 
Alas, thought I, for what was all this glory. 

This mammoth castle built, which looked when 

made 
As though for ages it would stand. 
And generations in its walls enfold, 
A column bent and twisted, like a finger raised on 

high, 
A silent monitor before me stood, 
The whispering winds, seem an echo of the soft 

low murmur 



^pttttt^ of tl)e ^a^t Sy 

Of the voices, of these the galleries trod; 
The broken column, a part still holds, 

And on the fragment of wall a piece of once 
rich tapestry still clings, 
The four walls, when it stood in all its height, 
Had resounded with strains of music, so intoxicating 
That no wonder I can feel my being tremble 

When these scenes come back again, 
The scent of wild roses as they clambered up the 
side 

And 'round the gallery wide. 
Threw a perfume through the wide doors. 
To the hall where the dancers held sway. 

And those shining walks of pebble, that in the 

moonlight look so white; 
Led to the edge of the rippling lake, 
An array of tiny pleasure craft held 
Rocked in perfect rhythm to the lullaby the zephyrs 

sang. 



^a^^ing €I)tme^ 



All this then past, the fair inhabitants, 

Now silent spectres, in another land, 

Left their ghostly remanence for me, one of the 

few left 
To live again in contemplation sweet, yet sad, 
Of boastful days, when rich armored knights were 

wont to mingle 
With fair faces by their side. 

The luscious youth days, like a dream went by. 
And now the crumbling walls stand stark and bold. 
The moon has shifted behind a cloud. 
The shadows swaying ceased, and the spectres of 

the night all gone; 
A deadened stillness, the air surrounds 
The beauty of the scene, which the moonlight gave 

obscured, 
Vanished like my dream. 



Cl^e i^ale of l^tatt^ 

Death, O no, it cannot be, 
As yet 'tis but an earthly sphere; 
Until the ties broken asunder, 
The spell of earth dispelled and broken. 
Then into spheres above we enter 
Clad in white robes celestial. 

Old forms that were the long ago familiar, rise up 
To greet us as we float in hemispheric azure, 
For e'en 'tis but to leave this mundane sphere, 
To enter in another just beyond this vale of 

tears. 
Where hearts asunder will reunite. 
And all the broken earthly ties resume again, 
Discontent, bickering strife that here disturbed. 
All, all will then be gone, 
For there the ties are riveted never again to break 

asunder. 

89 



Little C^tngg jttafee tl^e mi^olt 

Atoms of dust when heaped together make a 

mighty array; 
Drench the earth with freshness, raindrops many, 
Mighty forces the billows when of one accord ; 
The ocean heave drive the gallant ship, to depths 

of death and despair. 

One seed the acorn made grow upon the monarch 

oak, 
And seed the flower produce and fruit the many; 
Ah, what a lesson from such a study we could derive, 
What world of meaning true the heart inspire; 
Trembles in the wind the little leaf, the stem 
A beauteous flower supports. 

Didst thou stop to think one tiny seed. 
Had its beginning flourished and grew; 

90 



Hittle €l)ing^ i^afte t^e Wt^olt 91 



To many weary hearts gave pleasure, 
Admiration won, a notice gained. 

Sweet thought that tiny though an action. 

Yet with kindness given leaves its impression ; 

And each day a kindly act repeated. 

Leave in the whole an impress lasting ; 

For the soul is touched by kindness. 

Be the heart sordid, lost to virtue, 

Yet feeling still is there. 

And constant application to the rule, 
That virtue pursued brings a reward ; 
So quiet, persevering acts bring an return. 
Like bread cast upon the water is never lost, 
But finds its way to the giver again. 

So let us as we watch in Spring fair nature, 

As it rises in a burst of beauty our hearts incline 

And listen to the voice of conscience. 



9 2 l^aief^efing Cliimc^ 

In its breathing the sweet words and lessons from 

nature gleaned ; 
*Twas not made without care and forethought 

By our Creator, Lord ; 
From a tiny seed the flower, the tree had its up- 
rising, 
A beginning has everything, and to-day. 
Not the day to come, when suits most our con- 
venience. 
The moral take to heart, and act. 
Learn from beginnings small a kingdom may yet 

be bought; 
Actions noble a heritage prove 
That ages will not crumble and let fall. 
But like every good act written in the book of life, 
Will when each page is covered. 
Impress the many make its mark the morals gleaned, 
As good our life has filled. 
Happiness too will be our gain. 
Like a myth will not slip away ; 



Hittle €t)ing^ piaht tl)e i©{)ole 93 

For in good only is truth found 

The truth of living righteously, and giving freely, 

Spiritual blessings will follow 
For God remembereth and the good forgets he never. 

And faith implanted in the soil of human souls 
Will like the mighty branches of the oak. 
Throw its beneficent light and incense 
Far and wide; 

Enrich the sphere we daily live in, 
And our environments. 

Despair not ye who daily live in little acts of charity, 
For righteous living the sum of human existence 
makes. 

The little makes the many in the end. 

Drifting sands the shore leaves white and clean ; 

Scattered seeds of kindness sets well upon the soul ; 

And worthy are the little daily acts of life. 

Thou shalt find written at the end 

Of the page of life, well done good and faithful soul. 



Cl^e jHagic flute 

On the waves of night, 
Comes the far-off swell of a flute, 
Whose magic tones my heart bestir. 

Now sweet, but with a cadence low, 

Then again a wailing sound, 
As tho' a soul from paradise, lost and strayed. 

Then a trembling note, 
O could I tell the emotions play within my 

breast 
At that far-reaching note, so full of melody, 

A sweet lullaby now the air disturbs like 

the cooing of a mother 
At the cradle-side bending low; 
And yet the flute tones swell, what means that 

sound? 
Ah, 'tis the dripping waters, from a fountain, 

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€l)e i^agtc flute 95 

That rise and fall at the dictates of the wind. 

Hark those birds of spring a-warbling? 

No, 'tis the magic flute again, 
Trills and high notes on the air sounding. 

A love song now the sweet soft cadence would 

allow, 
And trembling, lingering notes bring forth, 
O magic flute, but to call to mind, 
Thou the enchanter can produce, 
And on the heart-strings play a tune. 
Stirs and thrills to deepest depths, the heart so 

tenderly. 



IKetrojSpection 

As the shades of evening fall, 

With purple tints of twilight in the west, 

Where the sun has sunk to rest in my garden I sit 

(Under the shade of the maple to rest); 

And fair nature watch as it slowly sinks to sleep, 

To me the days of youth come back, 

When like fair visions in my path dreams were 

pleasant ; 
Full of beauty to my mind, 
Ah yes, if I could but realize in part. 
Noble missons and desires that teemed within my 

mind; 
How exalting, grand, and noble an example, 
Before striving humanity I could set; 
For those the light of encouragement shut out, 
And dark despair, taken hold of body and of mind. 

96 



FEB x^ i^, 



